


I Want it Real

by mugsafterdark (mugsandpugs)



Series: Do You Feel It? [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcoholism, C137cest, Cunningulus, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Incest, No Aftercare, Oral Sex, Protective Rick, aged up Summer, dubcon, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsafterdark
Summary: "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I only know like two, three dozen Earth girls tops who would actually get off on being kidnapped by Lilo and Bitch here and having their fluids harvested, and Vanilla-Bean Summer here just isn’t one of them.”  Or, Rick is forced to have sex with Summer to save her and deals with the aftermath about as well as you'd expect him to.





	I Want it Real

Rick rolled through the glowing portal after his granddaughter with his heart hammering the euphoric adrenaline of a narrowly-gained success.

He’d arrived in the garage just in time to see a familiar strawberry ponytail whipping into nothing, the last echoes of a scream still reverberating on the cement walls. Without a moment’s hesitation he’d dived in after her, a hand in his coat fishing for any weapon he might have on him.

Rising to a crouch he flicked the safety off his plasma blaster as he whipped his head around, senses poised to determine where in the infinite possibility of universes he had chased Summer Smith into.

Although he’d anticipated seeing something similar to the planet Gazorpazorp, he immediately shucked off any expectations like a pair of dirty socks when he saw what looked like an advanced, sterile office; tall spacious ceilings, unpleasantly bright lighting, and steel, glass, and tile as far as the eye could see. It was also quite an empty place that smelled strongly of ammonia. It did not bode well, but the atmosphere so far proved breathable and his body remained three dimensional. All good signs. It was best to stay positive when searching for a trace of one’s kidnapped-by-aliens, possibly-dead granddaughter.

Cocking his head, Rick dug a finger into his ear to dislodge any wax before listening harder. There: the faint humming of voices and, when he closed his eyes, he could also feel the vibrations of distant footsteps. Trying not to think of a deranged alien scientist implanting eggs in Summer’s intestines- wouldn’t that be fun to explain to Beth- he hurried onwards, with only the slightest care towards avoiding notice.

He needn’t have worried, as the halls were quite deserted. The flat walls were interspersed with opaque glass doors approximately every twelve footsteps, and between each, a fake potted plant. Each step was identical as the last, like looking at a long glitch of a sterile doctor’s waiting room. The only distinction from one space to another was the slight increase in voice volume ahead.

A familiar muffled sob behind the nearest door caught his attention. That was definitely Summer, and she wasn’t alone.

He reared and kicked it as hard as he could, the sole of his shoe planting hard just above the below-average height of the steel doorknob. Having not been latched properly it gave too easily and his momentum had him stumbling inelegantly forward as he overcorrected his balance. He re-steadied his plasma blaster, and then froze in surprise.

“Stop, you’ll contaminate the test subject!” The small, fuzzy creature ordered in a voice straight out of a children’s cartoon.

Rick raised his eyebrow at the alien; in its tiny labcoat with four arms folded across its chest, it stood about three feet high and was covered in fur a shade of deep indigo. It had two large, black primary eyes focussed on him; an additional four branching off in other directions. Feathery, moth’s antennae were poised and quivering between it’s cowlike ears. In its long, curved claws it held a clipboard.

They were standing in what looked like an examining room. Behind the creature was a reclining table complete with tacky exam paper. And perched on top of that paper, gagged and bound, was Summer herself. Internally, Rick sagged in relief to see that her limbs and organs appeared to be where they belonged and her clothes, while damp and smelling of chemicals, were still in place as well.

On the opposite side of the room, one of the walls appeared to be made of glass, to which a dozen or so similar creatures to the one Rick faced watched them, expressions unreadable.

It took Rick less than half a second to process this visual information. Then Summer made a sound- a muffled and panicked, “mmf!”- and Rick’s shocked expression faded to bored annoyance.

“Y-Yeah,” he drawled. “I hate to be the party’s buzzkill but I-I’m just gonna, I’m just gonna take this and go.” He stepped around the coat-wearing creature and moved to grab Summer, but was stopped by an ear-splitting screech.

“Holy fuck,” Rick groaned, having instinctively dropped his plasma blaster in his haste to slap his palms over his ears. He saw Summer’s eyes watering from the force of its unearthly noise. It seemed the weird little fuck had some skill after all. Rick reached to snatch the dropped weapon, but one of the creature’s four arms reached it first and powered it on, pointing the barrel at Rick’s chest. It looked like they’d be doing this the hard way.

“Y-y-you think I won’t kick your scrawny little asses because you, because you’re shorter than a third grader?!” he demanded. “I don’t have all day to waste with you freaks!” he gestured angrily to the beings who continued to watch the spectacle silently behind their sheet of dividing glass. “Give my Summer back and you might make it out of this alive.”

He turned his back on the doctor and was at the table in two quick strides, sliding his arms under Summer and bouncing her into a more manageable hold on his hip as he fumbled for the portal gun- let them keep the damn plasma blaster, maybe they’d blow themselves up with it. Her bound wrists were balled under her chin and still he noticed the tremble in her fingers. “Mmf-”

“I-it’ll be fine, Summer,” he said, and though he’d deny it to his dying day he stroked loose wisps of hair from her face in what could be described as a comforting manner, if the describer wanted their head blown off.

The whirring of the plasma blaster firing up had him frozen in his tracks however, swearing softly. Little fucker was smarter than it looked.

“Richard Sanchez of dimension C-137!” it trilled in it’s ridiculous voice. “You will place subject 9120B, colloquially known as “Summer Smith,” on her table; she will be returned to you after we have successfully harvested her ejaculate.”

He really did need to get his ears cleaned one of these days, or invent something to dissolve that pesky wax. “I-I didn’t quite catch that last bit. Pardon?”

He risked turning around, though he knew the plasma blaster was still on and pointed at him. It was pointless, but he found himself shielding Summer’s torso with his forearm anyway before he internally scoffed at himself. What good would his own meat and bone do against a gun that exploded plasma cells in any living bloodstream? She was fucked whether he cared or not, just like every other Summer and Morty that had the misfortune of meeting him. He reminded himself that she was replaceable, just as replaceable as anyone, and wished he had a free arm to take a swig from his flask with.

“We Nietzjungs have found life-saving medicinal properties in the cells of human female ejaculate,” the tiny doctor explained. “We need a sample to study further.”

“And you decided that my barely-legal granddaughter was the right test subject for you because…?” he said leadingly, eyebrow raised high. Human female ejaculate was comprised mainly of water- though some lipids, he knew, might be beneficial to some species. He processed this information, wondering what uses of it he might have on his own.

The creatures weren’t familiar enough to him to have expressions he read, but something about this doctor suddenly looked shifty. “She was just a random test subject, of course; a human likely to be able to perform the act your kind refer to as, ‘squirting.’”

Had his arms not been full of Summer, Rick would have crossed them skeptically. He ignored the surprised/angry/embarrassed noise Summer made at the compromise to her precious honor. “Uh-huh,” he said. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s mine, right? Completely random selection. If I look in your creepy little office I won’t find more Summers?”

“You fan your reputation too much, Mr. Sanchez,” the alien said, recovering smoothly. “It is, as you say, merely a coincidence.”

Rick could have pressed this, could have offered them an entire high school full of girls to experiment on in exchange for his Summer. But this little bastard had a gun to his granddaughter, and no portal in the world was fast enough to outrun holes in her lungs. It was time for a different tactic.

“Not to, s-s-sorry to buUUURrst your bubble, but I only know like, two, three dozen Earth girls who would actually get off on being kidnapped by Lilo and Bitch here and having their fluids harvested, and Vanilla-Bean Summer isn’t one of them.”

The doctor tossed its head back and laughed; it had row upon row of teeth, serrated and sharp as a mako shark’s, and Rick felt Summer shrink against him at the sight of them. This was bad; who knew what other nasty surprises their anatomy sported. He couldn’t let them touch her. His mind scanned through possible options and arrived on the one least likely to result in carnage.

“Let me do it.”

There was a short silence. “What was that?” the doctor finally asked.

“Mmf?” echoed Summer.

Setting her down on the exam table as he spoke, Rick made a show of resting the portal gun onto the floor before bending to tug the zipties from her ankles. “Let me get the sample for you. No offense but I think I know human anatomy better than you guys. Your success rate can’t be very high. We’ll be quick; twenty minutes, tops.” Her ankles were looking sore and swollen, and he rubbed at the red marks with his thumbs to get blood circulating properly again.

The doctor processed this offer, then turned to consult with the observing aliens through a microphone in its native language- shrikes and clicks Rick would have to find a translation for some other day- before turning to face them.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to observe your human mating habits,” he concluded. “We’ll replicate them later on further subjects.”

“Fine, whatever,” Rick said carelessly as he tugged Summer’s hands free from the ties, stepping back to let her rub her wrists and remove the gag herself. “I-I-I make the kid squirt and you let us go forever, no tricks alright? You won’t like me if you back out on a deal.”

“Hey wait a second!” Summer protested, shrill enough that Rick was already missing her gag. “I didn’t agree to this. Grandpa Rick, you can’t-”

“If I needed y-y-your, if I wanted an opinion from you, Summer, I-I would have, would have given you one,” he snapped without looking at her. “Y-you got us into this mess by fucking around in my garage so lie back and think of England or whatever, and we can go home. I have shit to do.”

Evidently that had been the wrong thing to say; her legs crossed and her arms folded like a vise, sealing her body off from him like he was some sex-crazy lunatic that actually wanted it, like he couldn’t get it better in any portion of the galaxy. She was scowling at him, watching him warily.

It was on the tip of Rick’s tongue to just order the Nietzjungs to strap her down, dissection-frog style. See how she liked arguing with him then, when she wasn’t even allowed to move. The thought passed as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling slightly sickened with himself. Time to switch gears.

“Summer, sweetie,” he said, unconsciously using the endearment he’d always slapped on Beth when she was being unreasonable with him. “It’s dangerous here. We need to get home as soon as possible, okay?” he widened his eyes with meaning- let her think what she wanted, let her believe he knew more than he really did. “Just, just let Grandpa Rick take care of his favorite girl, hm?”

This got her attention. Her eyes widened slightly and her jaw dropped. He saw the exact moment when he won: emotion flooded her eyes, and he could have snorted. Too easy; teenagers always wanted to feel uniquely special, and this one was needier than most. Likely the trauma of an alcoholic mother, a dumbass of a father, and a cute little brother that stole all the attention had left her more than a bit love-starved. Time to press on that insecurity.

“C-can you help me out here, Summer? Your grandpa needs you.” He cautiously put a hand on her shoulder, looking pleadingly into her eyes, and her folded arms dropped almost immediately.

“I- okay, Grandpa Rick,” she yielded. “If it means we can go home.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Nietzjung pick up the discarded portal gun. “This will be returned to you after you hold up the end of the deal,” it told him, and handed Rick a petri dish. It skittered on stubby claw-footed legs to the glass wall, which it touched lightly until the glass became gelatinous. After walking through it and coming out on the other side, the glass quickly solidified again. Fascinating… Rick wondered if he could recreate it with earth materials, how much he could sell it for.

“Grandpa?” Summer’s eyes were wide with concern. He looked at her face, then at the petri dish in his hand, and sighed. There was nothing else for it. When the only choice was to jump, he jumped.

Sliding behind Summer, he held her face in his hand, covering her eyes. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top bump of her spine, gauging her pulse. It was pounding, but not in a good way. The hand that curled into his free one felt clammy.

“Summer, you’re gonna- you’re gonna have to work with me here,” he told her, inwardly rolling his eyes. Such a girl; making so much out of what could be nothing. “Provide a little give.”

She swallowed nervously, throat bobbing, but nodded. “I am,” she said, a little too defensively, tilting her head for him to prove her point. Despite her bravado she flinched when he kissed her neck again, searching for sensitive spots. Her breath hitched slightly when he reached the velvet-soft underside of her ear, and so he mouthed carefully over the area, noticing her faint freckles. Before his eyes a pink flush started to bloom on her fair skin.

He repeated the motion behind her other ear, deftly reaching around to cup one of her small breasts in his hand as he did so. She jerked in response to this, trying to move away until he barked a stern, “S-Summer!” before resentfully settling against his chest. He flicked his tongue behind her ear and his thumb atop her clothed nipple- she wore no bra, the straps would have shown under her tank top- until it grew firm and pebbled.

Through the window he saw an intensely watching Nietzjung speak to another, inaudible from this side of the glass. Most likely it was asking what, precisely, he hoped to achieve by stimulating a mammary gland. He dutifully ignored them and found new places to mouth and stroke until she grew warm and pliant under his hands.

It was a slow process. Every new place he touched received the same response from her: stiff shoulders, a sharp inhalation of breath, an attempt to slide away before remembering what she was there for, and then a resigned exhale. If this were any other situation Rick would have long since backed off; clearly she wasn’t into this. As it was, their asses were on the line; this had to work, the sooner the better.

Gripping her hips- there was that flinch again- he slid his hands down the outside of her thighs, then took hold of her knees and prised them apart. This time when her shoulders stiffened, they remained so. He wondered if she was a virgin, and internally cringed a bit at the thought.

He rubbed the heel of his palm in a circle against the fabric covering her cunt, and she made a small noise. Hooking a leg over hers he rolled them over until she was on all fours underneath him, her back to his chest and her ass to is pelvis. He put a hand between her legs and began to work her some more, at the same time moving his hips in a suggestive way, forcing her to do the same. He flicked his tongue to that same spot behind her ear and smiled at her shiver. Good; a genuine response. Something was finally working. His body was responding to the simulation of sex as well- grinding her flat, boyish ass had his cock twitching in his pants.

Sliding a hand into her tank top he fondled her second breast, the point of her nipple feeling good on his palm. When he rubbed her cunt as he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she bucked against him with a soft moan.

“Good,” he encouraged. “Y-you’re doing great, sweetie.”

Her breasts were sensitive; that was good to know. He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck as he lightly traced the pads of his fingers around her small, soft tits until she shivered harder. He took the initiative to grip her waist and pull her back onto his lap as he sat up, sucking on her throat as he manhandled both breasts, then racked her top up and massaged her ribs.

“F-fuck,” she stuttered, voice soft, sounding trapped someplace between tears and a whine. It was hotter than it should have been and this time it was he who repressed a moan.

“Summer,” he hummed into her throat, scraping it with his teeth, bucking his hips. “Summer-girl.”

“Oh god.” She arched her neck, giving him more of her freckled throat to work with as her legs parted of their own accord. He quickly reached around her and started unbuckling her white capri pants, sliding her zipper open. The zip of metal teeth separating was the loudest sound in the sterile doctor’s office.

Her panties, he saw as he hooked his chin on her shoulder, were lavender in color with, of all things, Tweety Bird on the front, strings tied into bows on her hips. There was something vulnerable about the soft cotton covering a nest of wet red curls and he felt hit with a sudden pang of weariness, cock softening. He felt old, tired. He felt fucked up. The need to drink was stronger than ever, pulsing behind his eyelids, making his gums ache.

He glanced through the window again: the Nietzjungs were still there, watching intently. Some appeared to be taking notes. The doctor he’d spoken to upon arrival met his gaze, lightly tapping the plasma blaster into its palm. The message was clear: get on with it.

He looked down at Summer, and with a jolt realized she was gazing at him with eyes that reminded him too much of her mother’s. “Grandpa?” she asked uncertainly, and blood rushed into his cock so fast his head spun. If anything could make him feel like an old pervert it was this.

He could do this. He was Rick motherfucking Sanchez, creator and destroyer of worlds. Making some snotnosed brat cum was a walk in the park.

Closing his eyes and shutting down his thoughts he gripped her by the back of the neck and dragged her forward, kissing her on the lips, coaxing them apart and nibbling on her lower lip as he did so. His long fingers deftly puled apart the bows on her panties and he cupped her throbbing pussy in his hand. She was unmistakably wet now, slick and velvety to his fingers and hot as a small inferno. He enjoyed the feeling as he rubbed her, then used his index and ring finger to part her swollen folds, stroking his middle finger tenderly over her.

She jerked in his grasp, oversensitive and yet so needy, a mewl caught on her lips that he swallowed whole before licking a stripe up the side of her neck. Salty.

“W-want me to, t-to, to eat you, Summer-girl, Summer-sweetie?” He mumbled in her ear, brushing her pulsing clit with his thumb. “Eat you out nice and slow, baAUGHby girl?”

She let out a soft sob, nodding hard, too overwhelmed to speak. He let her feel the smile that crossed his lips against her jaw.

Shifting her weight until he could slide out from under her, he set her shoulders gently against the wall before slipping off the crinkly paper of the exam table. He got to his knees with only a small wince of stiffness, tugging her pants further down her legs as he did.

She was starting to look nervous again and he rolled his eyes; did he have to do everything? There wasn’t time for stupid shit like constantly reassuring and evaluating her feelings. Hoisting her legs over his shoulders, he pushed her wet panties to the side and breathed warm air over her pinkened cunt lips. A muscle in her right thigh quivered, and his mouth watered as he kissed her softly, then flicked at her clit with his expert tongue.

That got a satisfying reaction. She let out a high keen and arched her back, her head thumping loudly against the wall as her legs flew apart. Rick grinned and held onto her calves as he lapped sweetly, nose buried in her curls, lips pulling, tongue folding, gently sucking and releasing. He’d been told he was good at this a time or two or fifty, and she was gratifyingly sensitive and reactive.

When he darted his tongue in, then out of her, Summer’s hips jerked in his hands. Her fingers tangled in and yanked on his hair, urging him faster. “Grandpa!” she cried, voice cracked and pleading. The part of him that was an asshole with an ego the size of Mars puffed out its chest and preened. He wanted to pause, to tease her out longer until he broke her, until she begged her grandfather for release and thought of him every time she touched herself.

It was the part of him that shot his grandkids’ assailants, that gave Morty his collar, that kept returning to this family again and again despite decades of experience telling him otherwise, that instead slipped his fingers into her mouth and brought the flat of his tongue firmly against her. She would move on from this sooner if he got it over with, and would probably prefer these memories without the added shame of saying anything embarrassing.

He worked a finger, then two, inside of her as he tugged on her labia with his lips, swirled his tongue over her clitoris. And when he felt the muscles of her thighs tightening around him, he readied the petri dish he’d been provided. In only moments he felt her muscles tense, then convulse as she moaned again, thrusting shamelessly onto his face.Hot liquid coated his jaw. He angled the dish under her to catch as much as he could, waiting it out and working her down with a final soft lap, a gentle kiss.

Then he stood, covertly adjusted himself in his pants, swiped his face dry with the sleeve of his labcoat, and showed the Nietzjungs the petri dish. “A deal’s a deal, assholes,” he said, voice once more all business. His jaw was sore. “Can we go now?”

Behind him, Summer was catching her breath. He told himself if she was mature enough not to acknowledge that he was achingly hard, straining in his own pants, then he’d also play nice and not turn around until she was presentable. His scalp ached from where she’d pulled too hard, and his knees from kneeling for so long, but not unbearably so.

The head doctor Nietzjung looked at his assistant, who returned the look, and Rick’s heart sank, mood darkening.

“Hey!” he pounded a fist to the glass, causing the tiny aliens to jump. “After making me tongue-fuck my granddaughter I’d really appreciate some honor here, dickbags. Let us go and maybe I won’t annihilate your entire planet when- not if- we get out.” He held the petri dish up, emphasizing his willingness to dump the clear liquid onto the floor and grind it under his shoe.

“Of course, Mr. Sanchez!” the doctor squeaked nervously through the intercom. “No need for rash behavior, I’ll have you and Summer escorted out safely right away.”

“Damn right.” Rick narrowed his eyes at them. Behind him he heard Summer, being deliberately quiet, shift on the paper, and a slow zip of her adjusting her pants and top. He glanced at her reflection in the steel frame around the window and saw her fixing her ponytail, touching her swollen lower lip with her finger as if to determine that, indeed, she’d been kissed hard not minutes before.

Damn it all to hell, this was going to be awkward.

“Come on, Summer,” he said without looking directly at her. She stood, adjusting the strap of her sandal before approaching him, though she didn’t stand within touching distance and looked only at the floor. God, God, God. The head Nietzjung passed through the sheet of glass and traded the petri dish for the portal gun. It didn’t offer Rick the plasma blaster and he didn’t ask for it, instead opening a portal to his garage, flipping the whole group of them off, and stepping through.

Summer still didn’t look at him as she walked inside, crossed the garage, and climbed the three steps to the door of the main house, which she shut behind her. He heard the soft fall of her footsteps nearing her bedroom and then he was alone once more with the portal to the Nietzjung universe flickering closed.

He was still hard, he realized after a moment, and snorted at himself. Nothing a little whiskey couldn’t cure.

He was reinforcing a weak shelf in his garage when she finally returned, hours later, and stood hopefully in the doorway watching his back. He felt her eyes on him and continued to ignore her until, with a retenting sigh, she walked closer.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“I’m busy,” was his short reply.

She fidgeted, having clearly expected some other response. She probably wanted assurance, or just attention. Same thing, really.

“Grandpa, why don’t you want to talk?!” she asked again, frustration plain in her voice. “I, I’m not mad at you. You didn’t want this either. It was, like. Both of us were raped.”

This got barely a grunt of acknowledgement from him. He was starting to sober a bit, which meant his hands shook more than was advisable when using a drill. He steadied them by bracing his elbows on the shelf and focusing harder.

“I can see through you, you know,” she continued. “You’re pushing me away because you don’t want to acknowledge what happened.”

Unable to keep working with her standing there asking stupid shit like this, he finally turned to look at her. He saw nothing more than a child. Eighteen with an acne scar right on her nose, sunburned upper arms and split ends in her hair and an earnest belief that the world was a good place still visible in her eyes, yet to be beaten out of her by life.

“W-w-what do you want me to, what is there to talk about, SUUUGHmer?!” Rick snapped. “Grandpa touched your no-no places and now you’re feeling all messed, feeling all confused inside? You want me to tell you it’s going to be okay? I could, I could tell you that what we have is special, too special to tell any grown-ups!”

He was advancing into her space now, bracing a hand on the wall beside her head as he leered obscenely. “Want me to go all old school? Get in my spaceship, little girl; I’ve got candy!” He slapped a palm on one of her breasts and gave it a squeeze until she made a noise of disgust and shoved him away hard.

Stumbling, his back hit the newly-repaired shelf and knocked several vials to the ground. He recovered quickly and grabbed his crotch, gave a thrust, and laughed. Her expression became stony; she crossed both arms over her chest and stared him down. Good; that should stop her from idolizing him or developing some weird crush. Better she hate him forever than see him as a hero or a victim.

Stalking past her, he bent down to the cupboard under his desk and produced moonshine stolen from Squanchy’s planet, a foul yellow gut-rot that made his eyes water and shot his BAC sky high with a few sips. He took a full, mouth-burning chug and pounded his own chest with a fist when he coughed.

He’d expected Summer to be gone when he returned to his work, but she’d only moved closer, most of the fight gone from her eyes and only a tired, disappointed resentment remaining. They stood, sizing each other up for a long moment before Rick held the bottle out to her.

Accepting it, she looked it over closely and took a sip, then shuddered violently with a gag. She recovered, then took another.

“That’s enough.” he said firmly, and took the bottle back. Then, though he knew he shouldn’t, he reached and put a hand on her head. Her hair was soft as he ruffled it gently, and she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm with a sigh bordering on a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly she might not have heard it, and then he returned to his shelf. When he heard her leave again, he did not turn around.


End file.
